Him (Him #1)(16)

The video had ended. I’d chosen a clip that was only a few minutes long. And now the screen had frozen on a menu of clips, but the thumbnail photo displayed most prominently was this awful shot of a woman’s giant ass.

“Um…” Jamie actually chuckled. “That’s not getting the job done.”

I felt a sort of awareness settle over me then. In hockey, when a shot opens up, a good player has to react immediately. That’s exactly what was happening here. A window of opportunity had cracked open a sliver, and I was going to dive through it.

“You could call in your bet,” I croaked.

Stroking himself, he let out a hot breath. “You daring me to?”

“Yeah.”

His throat worked as he swallowed. His eyes flickered with a parade of emotions I couldn’t keep up with. Reluctance. Heat. Confusion. Heat. Irritation. Heat.

“I…” He laughed, his voice hoarse. He stopped, cleared his throat. “Double dog dare you.”

His gaze locked with mine again and I almost came right there and then. My cock had swelled in my hand, pulsing. Aching. But somehow I managed to put on a careless tone, my trademark up-for-anything drawl that half the time is a total front.

“Well. This should be interesting.”

The faint hint of panic on his face was unmistakable, but I didn’t give him time to back out. I wanted him too much. I’d always f*cking wanted this guy.

Releasing myself, I reached over to cover his hand with mine. He tensed, and for a split second I thought he was going to push me away.

I wouldn’t have blamed him.

But then he let go, leaving my hand there alone. And I was holding his dick. Finally. He was hot and hard, and the ends of his soft blond pubic hair tickled my fingertips. I squeezed, and all the air seemed to drain out of his body, his torso practically melting into the mattress. My mouth was a desert, my pulse a loud drum in my ears.

I stroked my palm along that hard shaft, acting like what I was doing was no biggie. Then I said, “Fuck, I think I’m drunk.” Because that seemed like the right thing to say. Like alcohol was the reason we were doing this. Alcohol was our hall pass.

It worked, because he choked out, “Me too.” But his voice was smoky and distracted.

And maybe he was drunk. Maybe the flush on his cheeks was all thanks to the whiskey and not from the feel of my other hand yanking his shorts down further. Maybe his breathing quickened because alcohol was surging through his bloodstream and not from my fingers curling around his shaft.

I shifted on the mattress, kneeling in front of him as I pumped him in slow strokes. My entire body throbbed with uncontrollable need, my erection heavy between my legs. I ignored it, though. Jamie blinked twice when I rose above him, and I watched his face, gauging his reaction. He didn’t look horrified. He looked turned on.

I’d been fantasizing about this moment for years. Couldn’t believe it was really here.

“What are you waiting for, Ryan? Suck it already.”

Surprise jolted through me. He only called me Ryan when he was taunting me. And right now he was taunting me about sucking his dick.

Jesus.

My bravado faltered, just for a second. Until I saw his pulse hammering in the hollow of his throat, and realized he was as nervous and excited as I was.

I took a breath and lowered my head.

Then I closed my mouth over his swollen tip and sucked.

Jamie’s hips snapped up instantly, his breath leaving his throat on a ragged shudder. “Oh Jesus.”

I remember wondering if he’d ever been blown before. The shock and awe in his voice had been so raw. So sexy. So I’d wondered, but not for long. Not when he started whispering the hottest, filthiest commands at me.

“More,” he muttered. “Take more. Take it all.”

I sucked him deeper into my mouth, almost to the base, and just when he moaned, I released him, gliding my tongue along the long, hard length of him until his dick was glistening. I lapped at the moisture leaking out of his tip, and the taste of him infused my tongue, making my head spin.

I was blowing my best friend. It was so surreal. It was what I’d dreamed about for so long, and the fantasy was nothing compared to the reality of it.

“Fuck, yeah.” Canning’s hips began to rock as I took him in my mouth again.

I licked the crown of his cock, teasing, savoring, then taking him deep again. I didn’t dare peer up at him. I was too afraid to look him in the eye—afraid he’d be able to see on my face how much I wanted him.

“Jesus, Wes, you’re way too good at this.”

The praise just lit me up. Holy hell. He was thrusting into my mouth because I turned him on.

His fingers suddenly tangled in my hair, tightening when I swallowed him as far as I could take him.

“Oh Christ. Keep doing that, man. Let me f*ck your mouth.”

Every husky thing he said practically made me go up in flames. I knew I would enjoy this. But if he was too? Mind bending. I quickened the pace, squeezing his shaft on every upstroke, tighter than I thought he’d like, but he kept muttering harder, faster.

My eyes squeezed shut as I worked him over, determined to make him lose control, to make him feel the same urgent need wreaking havoc on my body.

“Wes…” A choked sound left his lips. “Fuck, Wes, you’re making me come.”

His fingers pulled my hair to the point of pain, his abs tightening as his hips rocked faster. A few seconds later, he groaned. The husky sound vibrated against my lips as he went still, thrust deep, and came inside my mouth while I swallowed up every last dro—